The morning mist still clung to the canals as I crossed the Ponte delle Guglie, making my way toward Cannaregio. Venice awakens differently than Rome—my adopted city—with a quieter reverence, as if the stones themselves remember centuries of whispered prayers and muffled conversations. I had come to the Ghetto Nuovo, that small island of memory where humanity first institutionalized separation, where in 1516 the Venetian Republic decreed that all Jews must live within designated boundaries, locked in at night, their movements controlled by day.

As a sociologist of religion who has spent years studying the intersections of faith, culture, and social structure, I recognized in these narrow streets something profound about human nature: our capacity to create both physical and metaphysical boundaries. The Venetian ghetto—from which we derive our modern word—was revolutionary in its systematic approach to segregation. Here was born the first formalized model of urban exclusion that would spread across Europe like a viral architectural concept, appearing in Rome, Prague, Frankfurt, and countless other cities where Jewish communities would be confined until the mid-19th century.

Yet what struck me most forcefully was not the historical weight of these stones, but their contemporary lightness. The gates are gone. The walls have crumbled or been absorbed into the city’s organic growth. Jewish residents are free to live anywhere in Venice—or anywhere in the world. The ghetto as a physical institution has been relegated to history books and tourist brochures.

But have we truly dismantled the ghetto? Or have we simply learned to build more sophisticated versions, invisible to the eye but no less real in their effects?

The architecture of mental separation

Walking through the narrow calli that connect the Ghetto Nuovo to the Ghetto Vecchio, I was confronted by a troubling realization: while we have torn down the physical walls that once confined Jewish communities, we have perhaps become more adept at constructing mental ghettos—invisible barriers that separate communities just as effectively as any medieval decree.

These new ghettos are not built of brick and mortar but of prejudice and assumption, of media narratives and social algorithms that create echo chambers more insidious than any walled enclave. In our contemporary cities—whether Rome, Paris, London, or New York—we witness the emergence of what I call “glass wall communities”: groups that can see each other, that exist in proximity yet rarely engage in meaningful dialogue.

Consider how we live today. Immigrants cluster in certain neighborhoods not by legal mandate but by economic necessity and social comfort. Religious minorities often self-segregate, creating informal ghettos of familiarity. Even our digital lives reflect this pattern—we follow, befriend, and engage with those who confirm our existing beliefs, creating virtual ghettos of the mind that can be more restrictive than any physical boundary.

The challenge is more complex than the original Venetian model because these modern ghettos wear the mask of choice. We tell ourselves that segregation is voluntary, that birds of a feather naturally flock together. But this narrative obscures the structural forces—economic inequality, educational disparities, cultural xenophobia—that make such “choices” inevitable for many.

Lessons from European ghettos

The history of Jewish ghettos across Europe offers sobering insights into how physical separation becomes internalized. In Rome’s ghetto, established in 1555, generations lived within papal-imposed boundaries that created not just physical isolation but psychological adaptation to marginalization. The Frankfurt Judengasse, the Prague Josefov—each represented a different experiment in controlled coexistence, where dominant societies sought to benefit from Jewish commercial skills while maintaining social and religious distance.

What fascinates me as a scholar is how these communities developed remarkable resilience and internal solidarity precisely because of their forced separation. Synagogues, schools, mutual aid societies, and cultural institutions flourished within confined spaces, creating rich micro-societies that preserved and innovated Jewish life even under oppressive conditions.

But this historical pattern raises uncomfortable questions about our contemporary moment. Are we creating conditions where different communities develop in parallel rather than in dialogue? When Muslims, Christians, Jews, and secular populations live in separate social spheres—attending different schools, consuming different media, socializing within homogeneous networks—do we risk reproducing the isolation that physical ghettos once imposed?

Venice as a model of possibility

Yet standing again in the campo of the former ghetto, observing the steady stream of visitors—Jewish and non-Jewish, local and international—I was reminded of Venice’s unique capacity for transformation. The city that invented the ghetto has also, perhaps, pointed toward its transcendence.

Today, the Ghetto Nuovo and Ghetto Vecchio host five active synagogues representing different Jewish traditions—Ashkenazi, Sephardic, Italian, Levantine, and German. The Museo Ebraico tells the story not just of Jewish Venice but of the complex relationships between communities across centuries. Kosher restaurants and bakeries serve both observant Jews and curious visitors. The workshops of contemporary Jewish artists open their doors to dialogue about identity, memory, and creativity.

This transformation speaks to something essential about Venice itself—a city that has always been, by geographical and commercial necessity, a place of encounter. Built on trade routes between East and West, between Christian Europe and the Islamic world, Venice learned early that diversity could be economically profitable even when socially challenging.

Toward dialogue and understanding

As an activist for interfaith dialogue, I see in Venice’s former ghetto a powerful metaphor for our contemporary challenge. The physical walls are gone, but the work of building bridges across the mental barriers that divide us has only just begun. The experience of integration—or experience of community building in a diverse society—requires more than the absence of legal segregation; it demands the presence of intentional encounter.

What would our cities look like if we designed them for dialogue rather than division? If our schools, our neighborhoods, our public spaces were conceived as laboratories for cross-cultural understanding rather than comfort zones for homogeneous groups?

The Venice ghetto suggests that such transformation is possible. A place born from exclusion can become a space of inclusion. Walls built to separate can be transformed into bridges that connect. But this requires conscious effort—the kind of patient, persistent work that turns strangers into neighbors, neighbors into friends, and friends into collaborators in building more just and inclusive communities.

Conclusion: The ongoing journey

As I prepared to leave the ghetto that morning, crossing back over the bridge toward the broader city, I carried with me a sense of both hope and urgency. Venice, this impossible city built on water and sustained by centuries of calculated risk-taking, reminds us that human communities are not fixed entities but ongoing projects, constantly under construction.

The ghetto walls may have fallen, but the work they represented—the work of learning to live together across differences—continues in every generation. Whether in Rome, where I make my home among the seven hills and countless communities, or in Venice, where water and stone create spaces for both separation and connection, we face the same fundamental choice: Will we build walls or bridges? Will we create ghettos of the mind or communities of the heart?

The answer lies not in grand gestures but in daily acts of encounter—in the decision to cross the bridge, to enter an unfamiliar neighborhood, to listen to a story different from our own. In these small acts of courage, we honor both the memory of those who were confined by walls and the possibility of those who will be freed by our choices.

Venice teaches us that even the most entrenched systems of separation can be transformed. The question is whether we have the wisdom and will to continue that transformation in our own time and place.

Sometimes we find God sends among us some of His servants as a blessing. The mere presence of such servants suffices to instill peace and trust, opening a door of hope in our souls. They are guardians of heart who teach goodness by being the way they are. Thomas Michel was one of those guardians. He was a man of wisdom which he derived from the depths of the Christian tradition and a man of elegance that embodied the conscience of all humanity.

I extend my condolences and prayers of patience to his family, friends, those who had the opportunity to meet him, and especially to the volunteers of the Hizmet Movement who feel his loss deeply.

Condolences to us all.

Meeting Fr. Michel for the first time brought an immediate sense of comfort. He taught not by speaking, but by listening. He approached not by authority, but by understanding. This is how he earned a special place in the hearts of all who crossed paths with him.

“What humanity needs most today is a climate of love,” our teacher Fethullah Gülen said many, many times. Thomas Michel was nourished in such a climate, and he carried it with him across the world as one of its architects. Those who sat with him would recognize his state of acquiescence when he listened; his careful choice of words not to hurt anyone’s heart; his deep respect for those from different faith traditions – all of these were manifestations of his sincere connection to God.

In his latest message from Chiang Rai, Thailand, he taught us another lesson with the humblest of words: “Like Muslims, we Christians are not afraid of death because we know we are returning to the God who loves us.”

What a submission – simple yet truthful and touching. It was not words of farewell, but an expression of the inner peace that comes with walking toward God; a peace that gave voice not to the carnal soul, but to his loving heart.

In a spirit of fidelity, Fr. Michel wrote the following in the same message: “I appreciate and am grateful for the many wonderful people that God has allowed me to know in Hizmet.” This was also a crystal-clear testimony to the dialogue he pursued with us, the Hizmet community. He loved us, understood us, and welcomed us with a big embrace. We loved him back. We saw in him the purity of a servant of God seeking his Lord and the Lord’s good pleasure.

Our dear friend Thomas Michel left behind an indelible mark in the heart of the Hizmet community. That mark is not only from his academic research, books, and conferences, but the result of a smile, a compliment, or comforting a heart that were to last a lifetime. He did not only voice his support to interfaith dialogue but made it his natural state of being. His talks were not only informative but urged his audience to think over what it meant to be human.

We learned from his example that differences can lead not to conflict but richness, that diversions can transform not to polarizations but to bridges of love. Thomas Michel reminded us that the Truth spoke to every person with a different language, that what really mattered was to listen to that language with respect. Once, he said the following:

“Faith is when a person can feel the love he or she has for God in the hearts of others.” This love was the yeast that made him who he was.

While there is now a void left in his absence, there is also a legacy that must be upheld: to carry on the subtle and challenging journey of dialogue without interruption, and to continue that journey with love, respect, and a humble heart.

May God help us to carry forward what we have learned from him: kindness, calmness, and humane warmth.

Today, we are seeing off a real friend, a representative of the community of love, a true architect of dialogue. But we also know that every good seed that falls to the earth grows. The seeds Fr. Michel sowed will continue to grow.

May his spirit be blessed.

How We Can Mark the 60^th Anniversary of the Church’s Commitment to Interreligious Dialogue

This fall, Catholics are marking an important anniversary in the history of the Church: the 60^th anniversary of the end of the Second Vatican Council, or Vatican II. Taking place in Rome from 1962-65, the gathering brought together the world’s bishops to chart a new way forward, to open up the church to the modern world.

One of the many fruits of the council was a short declaration called Nostra aetate, which in Latin means “in our time.” In it, the Church reflected on the religious diversity of the world in light of Christian faith, seeking to define its relationship to other religions in a way that had not been done before. Though Nostra aetate is the shortest of the Vatican II documents—it is only a brief five paragraphs—it was nothing short of groundbreaking, spurring interreligious dialogue and collaboration worldwide. As a Catholic theologian who studies Islam, I have been profoundly impacted by this document; the trajectory of my own vocation would not be possible without the way it paved.

Still, the document remains largely unknown and underappreciated by many Catholics. Sixty years after Nostra aetate’s promulgation, the time is ripe to draw new attention to it, to recount some of its history, and to draw out lessons that Catholics (and indeed all people) can carry forward into the second quarter of the twenty-first century.

Speaking positively of other believers

As Nostra aetate declares at the outset, the bishops of Vatican II sought to reflect on what Catholics and those of other faiths have in common and what brings them together. This focus on similarities was a marked shift from the largely negative and oppositional approach to other religions found in past magisterial teaching. Rather than lamenting the religious diversity present in the modern world, Nostra aetate speaks of humanity as “one community” sharing a “common destiny,” and it states that the Church’s duty is to “foster unity and charity” between people.

The declaration acknowledges that throughout history, humans have sensed that we are grounded and upheld by something bigger than ourselves, and have sought out answers to perennial questions about the meaning of life, who we are, what it means to die, and how to live a good life. Nostra aetate speaks positively of the way that religious traditions have endeavored to answer these questions. The document then draws attention to specific aspects of other religions, highlighting Hinduism and Buddhism in section 2.

Judaism is dealt with at the greatest length, in section 4. The Church’s relationship with the Jewish people was the initial impetus for Nostra aetate.

Without a conversation between then-Pope John XXIII and the French Jewish historian Jules Isaac in 1960, the declaration may never have materialized. Just twenty years after the Holocaust in Europe, the Church was recognizing (and seeking to atone) for its historic antisemitism, especially the way that theological interpretations were deployed to justify the mistreatment of Jews. In Nostra aetate, the Church rejects its former teaching of contempt for Jews and the false notion that Jews should be held responsible for the death of Christ. It also draws attention to the roots of the Christian church in Judaism and indicates that God’s covenant with the Jewish people was not revoked. Forcefully condemning antisemitism, Nostra aetate encourages deeper learning, collaboration, and friendship between Christians and Jews.

During the declaration’s drafting process, the council fathers also felt it was crucial to mention Islam and forge a new way forward in the Church’s relationship with Muslims. Consequently, the declaration dedicates a section, paragraph 3, to Muslims, whom it describes as those held in “high regard” by the Church.

Nostra aetate mentions numerous things held in common by Catholics and Muslims, including worship of God, who both groups affirm to be “one, living and subsistent, merciful and almighty, the Creator of heaven and earth, who has also spoken to humanity.” Nostra aetate also points out that Muslims link their own faith back to Abraham, and that Jesus and Mary are important figures that Muslims honor and “devoutly invoke.” Islamic beliefs about the day of judgment and the resurrection of the dead are also mentioned, as well as their practices of prayer, fasting, and charitable giving.

Nostra aetate’s affirmations and statements about other religions are relatively brief, but each word was chosen carefully and purposefully. The records of the council deliberations and this history of its genesis show the complicated yet “inspired” process of the declaration’s creation, leading scholar John Borelli to consider it a “miracle” for it to have been written at all. In the sixty years since, scholars have pored over the text, seeking to understand its history and discern its implications for interreligious relations today.

Committing ourselves to dialogue

The word “dialogue” does not appear in Nostra aetate, but it became the buzzword to define interreligious relations in the wake of Vatican II. The document gave license to Catholics to engage positively with people of other faiths, saying in paragraph 2:

The church, therefore, urges its sons and daughters to enter with prudence and charity into discussion and collaboration with members of other religions. Let Christians, while witnessing to their own faith and way of life, acknowledge, preserve, and encourage the spiritual and moral truths found among non-Christians, together with their social life and culture.

In the last six decades, Catholics the world over—from popes and bishops to children and lay people—have joined together with people of other faiths to engage in what came to be known as the four types of interreligious dialogue. They are:

• the dialogue of theological exchange: discussions, often between scholars, about beliefs;
• the dialogue of social action: working together to help others;
• the dialogue of spiritual experience: witnessing or even participating in rituals or prayer; and
• the dialogue of life: the most ordinary yet perhaps most significant form of dialogue—simply sharing one’s joys and sorrows with those of other faiths in the context of daily living.

Nostra aetate indicates that Church’s new commitment to interreligious dialogue does not negate or conflict with its preexisting truth claims about Christ. In multiple places, the council reaffirms the Catholic teaching that saving grace comes through Christ, and thus the Church retains its “duty” to proclaim the gospel. Thus, in the wake of the council, Catholic scholars (and the Vatican) have wrestled with the coexistence of both dialogue and proclamation as integral parts to the Church’s mission, as well as the role of elements of other religious traditions in the saving plan of God.

Discovering the “true and holy” in other religions today

One of the most significant and quotable lines in Nostra aetate comes from section 2:

The Catholic Church rejects nothing of what is true and holy in these religions. It has a high regard for the manner of life and conduct, the precepts and the doctrines which, although differing in many ways from its own teaching, nevertheless often reflect a ray of that truth which enlightens all men and women…

What the Church says here is that Catholics can find value in other religions. There are elements of them which are “true and holy”—teachings and rituals of other faith traditions that are the locus of God’s activity. Nostra aetate names some of these sites of truth and holiness in other religions. But as the passage hints at, more could be said. As Daniel Madigan has put it, Nostra aetate left a number of questions open. By focusing on similarities, the declaration refrained from mentioning many of the distinctive aspects of other religions. For example, in the section on Islam, the Qur’an, which for Muslims is the Word of God, went unmentioned, as did the figure of the Prophet Muhammad. Elsewhere, very little is positively affirmed of Jewish belief and practice, and some major religions, like Sikhism, are not discussed at all. What could or should be said about them?

A task for Catholics today, sixty years after Vatican II, is to be on the lookout for all that is “true and holy” in other religions—to notice where God is at work in the spiritual lives and ethical traditions of our friends of other faiths. Each of us can likely point to examples of truth and holiness in the religions of others, even if they go unmentioned in the official text of Nostra aetate.

Standing against dehumanization and religious bigotry

The fifth and final paragraph of Nostra aetate addresses the problem of religious discrimination, drawing on scripture to remind Catholics of their duty to respect the human dignity of people of other faiths. It declares in part, “the church reproves, as foreign to the mind of Christ, any discrimination against people or any harassment of them on the basis of their race, color, condition in life or religion.” And it reminds Catholics that the health of their relationship with God is dependent on their treatment of others: “We cannot truly pray to God the Father of all if we treat any people as other than sisters and brothers, created in God’s image.”

These words are perennially important for Catholics, and indeed all people, to hear. In our own time, religious bigotry persists, fueled by stereotypes of the other and the human tendency to scapegoat others.

Holding together dialogue and social justice

Nostra aetate was not the only document issued at the end of Vatican II in 1965—several others were, too, including two important documents considered part of the body of Catholic Social Teaching. The first is Gaudium et spes, which discusses the Church in the modern world, and Dignitatis humanae, the council declaration on religious freedom. The late Jesuit scholar of the council, John O’Malley, insisted that the council documents could not be read in isolation, but had to be understood together. This insight is particularly important in today’s context, where interreligious dialogue is sometimes siloed from social justice work. While talking about theology, spirituality, and ethical principles is necessary and enriching, it can sometimes be a distraction from engaging real-world injustices. At other times, the desire to maintain cordial bonds with dialogue partners has led Catholics to avoid speaking about or taking action on issues where there might be disagreement. Fortunately, there are many initiatives that bring diverse people of faith together to push for justice and support the vulnerable.

Sixty years after Nostra aetate was promulgated, its lessons and legacy are still unfolding. In our own time, Catholics, people of other faiths and none, can be on the lookout for the “true and holy” in our midst, and as Nostra aetate says, “together preserve and promote peace, liberty, social justice and moral values.”

The quotations from Nostra aetate used in this piece come primarily from the English translation of the conciliar documents published by Austin Flannery, OP. His translations use gender inclusive language and are phrased slightly differently from the official English translation published on the Vatican website.

This is a shorter version of the same article published in Living City magazine.

Jordan Denari Duffner is a Catholic theologian, author, and professor who focuses on Catholic approaches to other religions, Muslim-Christian dialogue, Islamic studies, and Israel-Palestine. Her two award-winning books are Finding Jesus among Muslims and Islamophobia: What Christians Should Know (and Do) about Anti-Muslim Discrimination. She is a member of the National Catholic-Muslim Dialogue, organized by the USCCB, and a member of the Catholic Advisory Council of Churches for Middle East Peace. A research associate of the Centre for Muslim-Christian Studies at the University of Oxford, she lives in the Washington, DC area and teaches undergraduate courses Georgetown University and the University of Mary Washington. She writes about dialogue, spirituality, and more at Digging Our Well, her Substack publication.

As we stand at the threshold of commemorating the sixtieth anniversary of Nostra Aetate’s promulgation on October 28, 1965, we find ourselves witness to one of the most extraordinary metamorphoses in the annals of interfaith relations. This Declaration on the Relation of the Church with Non-Christian Religions emerged not merely as a theological treatise, but as a luminous response to humanity’s darkest hours and an enduring testament to the possibility of religious reconciliation in our fractured world.

Genesis of reconciliation: From the ashes of Shoah to the dawn of understanding

The genesis of Nostra Aetate cannot be divorced from the profound spiritual earthquake that the Shoah inflicted upon the Christian conscience. The unfathomable horrors of the Holocaust led the Catholic Church into a period of deep moral reflection, prompting a difficult reexamination of its long history of anti-Jewish attitudes and how these may have contributed to the tragic destruction of European Jewry.

Amid this moral reckoning, leaders of remarkable vision and courage emerged. Pope Saint John XXIII, blessed with an intuitive pastoral sensibility that transcended doctrinal rigidity, recognized with extraordinary clarity the urgent imperative for the Church to fundamentally reexamine its relationship with the Jewish people. His providential encounter with the French Jewish historian Jules Isaac on June 13, 1960, would prove to be one of those pivotal moments upon which the trajectory of history turns.

Isaac, bearing the unbearable weight of personal tragedy—having lost his beloved wife and daughter to the Nazi machinery of death—presented the Pontiff with a meticulously documented dossier entitled The Teaching of Contempt. This scholarly indictment revealed how centuries of certain Christian teachings and traditions had fostered attitudes that allowed anti-Jewish prejudice to take root and spread. The encounter left an indelible impression upon John XXIII’s compassionate heart, igniting the ecclesiastical processes that would ultimately birth this revolutionary declaration.

Cardinal Augustin Bea, the erudite German Jesuit and biblical scholar whom John XXIII entrusted with leading the Secretariat for Christian Unity, emerged as the principal architect of this transformative document. Despite encountering formidable resistance from various ecclesiastical quarters, Bea’s scholarly acumen, diplomatic virtuosity, and unwavering conviction proved instrumental in crafting a declaration that would fundamentally recalibrate the Church’s approach to the world’s great religious traditions.

The Islamic dimension: Article 3’s prophetic call to fraternity

While scholarly attention has justifiably focused upon Nostra Aetate’s groundbreaking statements regarding Judaism, Article 3’s treatment of Islam represents an equally momentous watershed in the long and often tumultuous history of Catholic-Muslim relations. The declaration proclaims with remarkable clarity: “The Church regards with esteem also the Muslims. They adore the one God, living and subsisting in Himself; merciful and all-powerful, the Maker of heaven and earth, who has spoken to men.”

More significantly for our contemporary global context, the declaration extends a compelling invitation that resonates across the centuries: “Although in the course of the centuries many quarrels and hostilities have arisen between Christians and Muslims, this most sacred synod urges all to forget the past and to work sincerely for mutual understanding and to preserve as well as to promote together for the benefit of all mankind social justice and moral welfare, as well as peace and freedom.”

This clarion call to transcend historical grievances and collaborate in the pursuit of peace, freedom, social justice, and moral renewal found profound resonance among diverse Muslim communities worldwide, most notably within the Hizmet movement inspired by the luminous teachings of Fethullah Gülen.

A historic convergence: Gülen’s visit to Rome

The Catholic Church’s invitation was met with a historic response when Fethullah Gülen traveled to Rome on February 9, 1998, for a private audience with Saint John Paul II. This extraordinary encounter represented far more than a diplomatic courtesy; it embodied the concrete manifestation of Nostra Aetate’s most sublime aspirations, bringing together the successor of Saint Peter with a distinguished Muslim scholar whose life had been dedicated to the noble cause of interfaith understanding.

During this historic colloquy, Gülen emphasized with profound eloquence the enduring relevance of Saint Paul VI’s prophetic call—the very pontiff who had solemnly affixed his signature to Nostra Aetate on that transformative October day in 1965. Gülen reaffirmed his unwavering commitment to interfaith dialogue while articulating practical pathways through which Muslims and Catholics might collaborate: fostering mutual understanding through collaborative academic research, orchestrating shared pilgrimages to sacred sites, and establishing partnerships in education and social service that would bear fruit for generations to come.

This momentous meeting exemplified how Nostra Aetate’s abstract principles could be transmuted into tangible relationships and concrete initiatives. The Hizmet movement’s subsequent engagement with Catholic institutions and communities across the globe—from educational partnerships that span continents to interfaith symposia that bring together the world’s greatest minds—demonstrates the perduring vitality and practical relevance of the declaration’s revolutionary vision.

The foundations of freedom: Dignitatis Humanae’s essential contribution

As we commemorate Nostra Aetate’s sixtieth anniversary, we must also prepare to celebrate the equally momentous sixtieth anniversary of Dignitatis Humanae (December 7, 1965), the Declaration on Religious Freedom, which will be observed this December. This complementary conciliar document provides the indispensable foundation upon which all authentic interfaith dialogue must be constructed.

Dignitatis Humanae proclaimed with unprecedented clarity that religious freedom constitutes an inherent dignity of the human person, rooted not in the subjective disposition of the individual, but in the very nature of human beings as rational creatures called to seek and embrace truth in freedom. The declaration articulated that “all men are to be immune from coercion on the part of individuals or of social groups and of any human power, in such wise that no one is to be forced to act in a manner contrary to his own beliefs, whether privately or publicly, whether alone or in association with others, within due limits.”

This revolutionary affirmation of religious liberty as a fundamental human right creates the essential preconditions for meaningful interfaith dialogue. Without the guarantee of religious freedom at both individual and communal levels, dialogue degenerates into mere tolerance of difference rather than authentic engagement with the other. A sustainable and truly transformative interfaith dialogue demands that every participant possess the inviolable right to practice, profess, and propagate their faith without fear of persecution or coercion.

The symbiotic relationship between Nostra Aetate and Dignitatis Humanae becomes apparent when we consider that genuine respect for other religious traditions—the cornerstone of Nostra Aetate—can only flourish in an environment where religious freedom is not merely tolerated but actively protected and promoted. The two declarations together create a theological and practical framework that enables believers of different faiths to encounter one another not as competitors in a zero-sum game, but as fellow pilgrims on the human journey toward truth and transcendence.

Evolution and expansion: From Nostra Aetate to human fraternity

The visionary legacy of Nostra Aetate has continued to evolve and expand throughout the decades, finding its most recent and perhaps most comprehensive expression in the historic “Document on Human Fraternity for World Peace and Living Together,” signed by Pope Francis and Ahmad al-Tayyeb, the Grand Imam of Al-Azhar, in 2019. This extraordinary document, building upon the theological foundation laid by Nostra Aetate and the freedom guaranteed by Dignitatis Humanae, presents an even more expansive vision of religious cooperation in addressing the manifold challenges confronting our global civilization.

The Document on Human Fraternity represents the maturation of conciliar thinking, demonstrating how the seeds planted sixty years ago have grown into a mighty tree whose branches extend across all continents and whose roots reach deep into the shared soil of human dignity. The Hizmet movement, along with countless other interfaith initiatives worldwide, continues to serve as one of the Catholic Church’s most significant partners in nurturing this expanded vision of religious collaboration.

Through innovative educational initiatives that bridge cultural divides, profound cultural exchanges that foster mutual understanding, and collaborative social projects that address humanity’s most pressing needs, these movements continue to embody the practical implementation of Nostra Aetate’s ideals in our contemporary context, while simultaneously demonstrating the vital importance of the religious freedom guaranteed by Digitatis Humanae.

Unfinished symphony: The challenge of complete reception

Despite these remarkable achievements that would have been unimaginable to previous generations, an honest and unflinching assessment reveals that Nostra Aetate’s transformative goals remain only partially fulfilled after six decades of implementation. The declaration’s reception among both Catholics and non-Catholics has been uneven and incomplete, and its revolutionary potential has yet to be fully realized across all sectors of religious life.

Within Catholic communities worldwide, while official Church teaching has firmly embraced the declaration’s principles and incorporated them into magisterial documents, grassroots understanding and implementation have progressed at varying speeds. In many Catholic institutions, educational curricula are still catching up with official doctrine, pastoral formation programs sometimes provide limited preparation for interfaith engagement, and popular religious understanding can occasionally reflect older pre-conciliar perspectives of exclusivity and caution.

Among non-Christian communities, including the global Muslim community, awareness of Nostra Aetate’s significance and appreciation of its revolutionary character varies dramatically across different regions and cultural contexts.

Political conflicts that instrumentalize religious identity, deep-seated cultural misunderstandings perpetuated by ignorance and prejudice, and unhealed historical grievances continue to impede the full realization of the declaration’s sublime vision of cooperation and mutual respect.

The path forward: Renewed commitment for a new era

As we mark this momentous sixtieth anniversary, both Nostra Aetate and Dignitatis Humanae remain simultaneously profoundly relevant and urgently necessary. The declarations’ core insights—that religious diversity reflects the magnificent richness of divine providence, that dialogue is infinitely preferable to confrontation, that believers of different faiths can collaborate for human flourishing while maintaining their distinct identities, and that religious freedom is the sine qua non of authentic spiritual life—speak with prophetic clarity to our contemporary challenges.

The path forward demands renewed commitment from all parties involved in the great work of interfaith understanding. Catholic institutions must continue deepening their comprehension and implementation of both declarations’ principles, ensuring that the vision of religious freedom and interfaith respect permeates every level of ecclesiastical life. Muslim communities and other religious groups must engage more actively and creatively with the unprecedented opportunities for dialogue and cooperation that Nostra Aetate creates, while simultaneously advocating for the religious freedom that Dignitatis Humanae champions.

Most importantly, we must transcend symbolic gestures and ceremonial encounters to achieve substantive collaboration that addresses the urgent needs of our common humanity. The existential challenges of our historical moment—climate change that threatens our planetary home, grinding poverty that degrades human dignity, systemic social injustice that perpetuates inequality, and the erosion of moral values that undermines social cohesion—require the coordinated response of all people of faith working together. Nostra Aetate provides not merely permission for such collaboration, but an imperative mandate, while Dignitatis Humanae guarantees the freedom necessary to pursue this collaboration authentically.

Conclusion: A vision for future generations

Sixty years after their respective promulgations, Nostra Aetate and Dignitatis Humanae stand as both monumental achievement and soaring aspiration. These declarations fundamentally transformed the landscape of interfaith relations and established principles that continue to guide religious dialogue in our interconnected world. Yet their complete potential remains tantalizingly unrealized, awaiting more profound reception and more comprehensive implementation by future generations of believers.

The extraordinary journey from the ashes of the Shoah to the hope of human fraternity, from Jules Isaac’s painful testimony to the collaborative vision of Pope Francis and Ahmad al-Tayyeb, from centuries of religious persecution to the affirmation of religious freedom as a fundamental human right, demonstrates both the remarkable distance we have traveled and the challenging road that still lies ahead. The luminous legacy of John XXIII, Cardinal Bea, and all the visionary figures who contributed to these revolutionary documents calls us not merely to commemorate their historic achievement, but to complete their unfinished work.

In our fractured world, torn asunder by religious misunderstanding and sectarian conflict, threatened by the rise of religious extremism and the erosion of religious freedom, Nostra Aetate and Dignitatis Humanae remain twin light of hope illuminating the path toward a more harmonious future. Their combined vision of religious communities working together for peace, justice, and human dignity within a framework of guaranteed religious freedom is not merely an aspiration—it is an urgent necessity for the survival and flourishing of our global civilization.

The fundamental question that confronts us on these momentous sixtieth anniversaries is not whether this vision possesses continued relevance, but whether we, the inheritors of this extraordinary legacy, possess the courage, wisdom, and unwavering commitment necessary to transform aspiration into reality, hope into achievement, and vision into lived experience.

The seeds planted six decades ago in the fertile soil of the Second Vatican Council await their full harvest. May these anniversary celebrations inspire renewed dedication to the unfinished work of building a world where religious diversity enriches rather than divides, where ancient wisdom traditions collaborate rather than compete, where the children of Abraham, Isaac, and Ishmael walk together toward a more just and peaceful future, and where every human being enjoys the fundamental freedom to seek, embrace, and live according to their understanding of divine truth. In this noble endeavor lies not merely the fulfillment of conciliar vision, but the hope of our common humanity.

The ethical principles and wisdom of Muhammed Fethullah Gülen Hocaefendi are reflected not only in his writings and works, but also in the actions and lives of the many who were inspired by his teachings. I got acquainted to Turkish volunteers of Hizmet many years ago. They were kind, smiling and eager to have a real dialogue with Jews and Christians.

A short time later, they got acquainted to the chief Rabbi of Milan (of blessed memory), his assistant, another Rabbi of blessed memory and some other people of the Jewish Community of Milan. Some of us were invited to meetings to talk about Jewish Holidays. At the end of the meetings, we used to eat delicious pastries prepared by people of the two groups, Turkish and Jewish respecting the kosher and halal dietary rules. In this way, a pleasant and friendly atmosphere was created. During the month of Ramadan, the volunteers of Hizmet used to offer Iftar dinners to some Christian social and religious communities. With generosity and kind attention to the kosher dietary rules, the Iftar dinner was offered also to some members of the Jewish community in a kosher restaurant. When the Covid pandemic began, it changed the lives of us all. With their generosity and their commitment to dialogue, the volunteers of Hizmet created a chatgroup: meetings were organized and held remotely through Zoom to talk about different topics. That group included Jews, Christians and Muslims, because in the last years before Covid our dialogue had truly become a tridialogue (in Italian: trialogo). The Christians are mainly members of OFS and of the Focolari Movement. Even now, after the end of Covid, we still hold meetings through Zoom. The topics are always connected to the relationship between the human being and himself, the relationship of the human being with others, with God and with the Created World.

Mankind keeps many shared memories, transmitted from one generation to another; but not all the memories are shared and not all the memories are similar. The layers of transgenerational memories in the soul and in the mind of an individual belonging to a majority group do not reflect the same experiences as those of an individual belonging to a minority group. Some people of Hizmet, suffering persecutions against them, told me that they are experimenting new feelings and emotions which make them understand the sufferings of the Jews.

The 20th century saw a revolutionary change brought by Nostra Aetate in the relations between the Catholic Church and the other Faiths, especially Judaism. During Saint John Paul II’s pontificate, other important documents offered indications for the full application of Nostra Aetate regarding Judaism. Saint John Paul II developed and confirmed the new teachings of the Church. He visited the Synagogue of Rome in April 1986 and in October he invited the religious leaders of the world to pray together in Assisi.

Muhammed Fethullah Gülen Hocaefendi was not a mere witness to these changes, much more than that he gave a personal strong contribution to the awakening of consciences and to peace.

May his teachings live and may his memory be blessed!

We had come to talk to him about dialogue and responsibility, and he was showing us what dialogue was about. At its heart is humility, a letting go of power. Focused on love, this approach recognizes and respects the other, not as one among many, but as a unique individual. Trust then grows with mutual assurance, and pathways are found together which respond to God and His creation, embodying hope. All of these virtues were not just discussed but lived in Hocaefendi, showing us, that dialogue is primarily about discovery of the self, each other, our world and God.

Fethullah Gülen’s contribution to Islam, to other religions and more widely, was precisely to show how truth could only be found through such dialogue. It is focused on our relationships, not in intellectual abstraction, enabling us to continually see the world differently (metanoia). This is why autocrats fear dialogue, seeking to silence different voices, and impose their perspective of the world, held in place by fear.

Because of that dynamic Gülen died away from his homeland, which in one sense is a tragedy. He did not get to see the reemergence of democracy in Turkey. In another sense though, the democracy he thirsted for never has and never will flourish fully in our world. This is democracy as dialogue, not simply representation, which seeks to engage everyone in sharing responsibility, a democracy which is always learning, always refreshing itself, always asking questions not just of those in power but of the ordinary person. Gülen gently challenged everybody to serve, to take and share responsibility for each other. Genuine dialogue nurtures freedom through relationships, freedom found in building peace. 

His enduring gift was the creation of the Hizmet Movement. The very term ‘service’ counters any temptation to reconfigure religion as a focus of power, nationalistic or otherwise. It looks outwards to share power and create, and so Hizmet’s home was always destined to move beyond national boundaries. But as Gülen taught us, global reach is not about elevation. Hence, he always resisted attempts to elevate himself, as leader or thinker. Instead, he brought people down to earth, the here and now, to the particular in which the universal love of God is to be found. For that, people of all religions and all nations owe him their gratitude. 

Dialogue

Articles

There is often mixed joy and sorrow when traveling abroad, sometimes discovered in the journeying, sometimes found at the destination. Such a mixture was mine on a recent trip with Hizmet to India, where interfaith dialogue and its wonderful fruits across the many faiths of that subcontinent were very clearly evident, but that alongside increasing communal discord and even serious and extensive street violence in the face of protests against government policies of division and exclusion. Unfortunately, such social upheavals are today not limited to India; they seem to be spreading like fires in drought-stricken forests around the world, engulfing too many developing and developed countries, alike.

Early one morning around 2am, when sleep evaded me, I deeply felt the poignancy of this turbulent travel, while my mind drifted to recollect some stories often told of St Francis of Assisi preaching not only to human beings but to birds, as well as other creatures of creation:

When he drew nigh unto Bevagna he came unto a spot wherein a great multitude of birds of divers species were gathered together. When the holy man of God perceived them, he ran with all speed unto the place and greeted them as if they shared in human understanding. They on their part all awaited him and turned toward him, those that were perched on bushes bending their heads as he drew nigh them, and looking on him in unwonted wise, while he came right among them, and diligently exhorted them all to hear the word of God, saying: “My brothers the birds, much ought ye to praise your Creator, Who hath clothed you with feathers and given you wings to fly, and hath made over unto you the pure air, and careth for you without your taking thought for yourselves.” While he was speaking unto them these and other like words, the little birds—behaving themselves in wondrous wise—began to stretch their necks, to spread their wings, to open their beaks, and to look intently on him. He, with wondrous fervour of spirit, passed in and out among them, touching them with his habit, nor did one of them move from the spot until he had made the sign of the Cross over them and given them leave; then, with the blessing of the man of God, they all flew away together. All these things were witnessed by his companions that stood awaiting him by the way. Returning unto them, the simple and holy man began to blame himself for neglect in that he had not afore then preached unto the birds. [Saint Bonaventura, The Life of Saint Francis, 12.3]

And so I wondered (dreamed?), what might the birds tell us of their lives and struggles in this newly disruptive age?

The Birds: A Parable

Once upon a time, there was a bountiful flock of birds, all with iridescent blue-green plumage and a melodic trilling song of thanks through God for their heritage as a single community: together they preened, together they sang, together they lived and thrived upon the resource-laden land God gifted to their stewardship.

As time passed, other flocks were drawn to this same rich territory, as well, all with their varied distinctive plumage—fiery yellows and reds, subdued grayish-browns, and dazzling whites—and all with their individual God-given songs of praise.

The original flock generously welcomed all these newcomers, judging that sharing was better than selfish hoarding, opening better than closing ranks, and accepting different characteristics better than demanding uniformity in attributes. Together they fashioned a unity in their very diversity, sharing the riches of the land, extolling their variegated colors in songs to their Creator, generating a harmonious chorale that exemplified the Creator’s love for all of His making, as stewards of land and of one another, together…together. Generations passed in peace, colors and songs filled the land, and unity was manifested.

But a season came when a spirit of fearful possessiveness arose among some of the descendants of the blue-green flock, who began looking askance at those whose colors and songs differed. “What place have these foreigners amongst us? Have they not intruded into our way of life, depleted our resources and now threaten our very existence? Let them depart to other lands, apart from us, with their own kind.”

Though few in actual number in the beginning, these dissident voices seeded fear and discord, which took root and grew widely where once unity had thrived. For although the ones they called “foreigners” had passed many generations upon the shared land and even now comprised only a small proportion of the overall population, hardship borne of dissimulation had come to many of the birds across all the flocks. Stewardship of the land had been overshadowed by exploitation of resources for the benefit of a greedy few, and the detriment of many. Now, a scapegoat was needed to divert attention from the real causes of increasing distress and hardship.

Arbitrary hierarchies were manufactured and enforced, purporting to be inherent and according to “purity” of color and song. Only those deemed worthy now had a proper place in society, and their numbers were strictly circumscribed by documented ancestry via sole descent from the first flock. All others were relegated to some separate, ignoble status. And now, uniformity and unison in song, rather than harmony of distinctives, became the priority: “How else could the Creator receive proper praise? So-called harmony was really just cacophony, and no God could be pleased with that!” If the song were different, it had no arena, even when the song was echoing celestial praise; if the bird’s color and song were different, the bird was no longer welcomed, it had no place.

Unity was shattered, harmony disappeared, estrangement normalized. Jealously ostracizing others became the common rule. Harsh words became the norm…violence the ready remedy…destruction, injury and death the ultimate result.

More fully awake, now, I considered, “Can the birds recover themselves? Can they listen anew to St Francis’ call together joyously to offer praise to their Creator and so be content? Or is it too late?”

Perhaps more importantly, is there more than a fanciful story, here? what might these birds tell us of today’s challenges to our societies…to our very humanity? Can we, today, respond to the call of St Francis as did the birds of the field near Bevagna, to live together in peace unto the praise our Creator, seeking only His commendation?

When President Trump recently visited India, banners were emblazoned with the slogan that the world’s oldest democracy was meeting with the world’s largest democracy. Thomas Mann, in 1947 testimony before a U.S. congressional committee, noted a depressing increase in “spiritual intolerance, political inquisitions, and declining legal security,” that typically foreshadows an ultimate breakdown in democracy itself, which can only finally usher in a breakdown in societal peace and prosperity (subsequently realized in the fever of McCarthyism in the US, and the violent partition of India). Where there is no sense of the sacred through acceptance of difference and mutuality in dialogue, there is eventually only polarization: there will be those who agree to think the same way who are called friends; while all the rest are demonized as enemies. And where there are only friends and enemies, insiders and outsiders, “us” and “them,” civil war—metaphoric at least, actual bloodletting at worst—is inevitable.

So, can India recover itself? It was once the standard bearer of secular/multi-faith democracy in the developing world—or is it too late? Can we in the US recover ourselves? We were once the standard bearer of an immigrant-filled country grounded on practicing civil discourse in the developed world—or is it too late?

May the Creator grant that we all together comprehend and affirm His path of acceptance, affirmation, and peacemaking:

The Spirit has never ceased brooding over the waters … ever creating, superintending, re-creating, all that is, according to the counsel of God’s own purposive will. Together with the angels and saints, we rejoice in faith, hope and love, as the Only Holy One continually, eternally renews the face of the heavens and the earth.
Our Only Creator
through His creation
is creating us
is sustaining us
is provisioning us
is re-creating us
unto the restoration
of all His creation.

The origins of a seemingly nameless civic-social movement which later became popularly known as the “Gülen Movement” or “Hizmet Movement” date back to the early 1970s in Turkey.  The Movement’s goal is to produce “social good” throughout the world, which are manifested around peaceful activities like promoting dialogue among communities, human rights, love, tolerance, ethics, education, women’s issues, and eradication of poverty. It derives inspiration from the ideas and thoughts of Fethullah Gülen, a Muslim cleric who is known as “Hojaefendi.” The Movement has successfully nurtured a generation to establish a global network of socio-cultural institutions including schools, coaching centers, universities, media outlets, publishing houses, hospitals, dialogue centers, and relief organizations.

At its core, the Movement is a faith based social movement that takes inspiration from Islamic ideals to reinforce the civic, moral, and ethical goals of Islam. The goal is to transform individuals and society in such a way to produce a “golden generation,” which in turn provides leadership to all walks of human life.

The Movement has espoused a purely civic social aspect of Islam – as opposed to discourses of “Islam and modernity” – to universalize the message of the Movement which has ultimately paved the way for it to become transnational.

“The movement encapsulates a faith-inspired peace-invoking service. It promotes universal values, superiority of the law and human rights along with freedom of belief, freedom of religion and freedom of expression.” [1]

As the movement’s chief source of inspiration, Fethullah Gülen dwells upon the universal values of humanity as an integral part of Islam’s fundamental doctrine and values. His approach to faith bends on Sufism and this has always made him a propounder of the human-centric discourse of Islam. The goal of this discourse is to promote a civic and ethical transformation of an individual and society at large, based upon the prophetic model of insan al-kamil (perfect human being). Gülen maintains that “Morality is the essence of religion and a most fundamental portion of the divine message. The Prophet, who is the greatest embodiment of morals, said: Islam consists in good morals; I have been sent to perfect and complete good morals” [2].

Gülen further underlines that the basic dynamics of a life of action and thought is directly tied with our spiritual life, which is based upon our religious values [3]. Gülen’s very idea of hizmet, meaning “service,” reminds the spiritual fervor of Imam Rabbani’s “abadiyat,” (meaning eternity) notion, becomes in a way “service to eternal God.” The attainment of “service to eternity” can only be achieved by serving the humanity. This universal Islamic discourse of Gülen discards the need of state agencies as a perquisite to serve Islam and its interests. Rather, he maintains that Islam can best be served by participating in socially beneficial activities such as promoting peace, imparting education, providing relief and health facilities. To emphasize this point, Gülen has said; “Islam does not need a state to survive; in the modern age, civil society can independently maintain Islam even where Muslims are not in majority” [4].

These conceptual and ideological clusters helped create and broaden the vision of transnational networks of Hizmet Movement that had entered the global arena and made it to engage in a comprehensive perspective on social-civic challenges. Its transnational character became even firmer when Gülen himself moved to the United States and was actively involved in promoting and improving the overall wellbeing of society investing his robust efforts to foster dialogue and peace. Since then, themes such as peace, human rights, ethics, pluralism, altruism, reconciliation and dialogue have occupied even more space in the center of the Movement’s agenda in order to gain a better understanding of, and appreciation for, cultures, histories, civilizations and traditions.

Despite its current national experience in its homeland Turkey differs widely in terms of the social relevance and political interactions, at the transnational level one can hardly doubt that the Movement has progressively developed an ability to address and mobilize around problems of a social and civic nature.

Unlike many other Islamic modernist movements including Salafism and al-Nahdah in Arabia, the Muhammadiyah movement in Indonesia, the Aligarh and Nadwa movements in India, the Hizmet Movement has been characterized by mass interaction and participation at local, national, and transnational levels. This interaction and participation have attracted thousands of volunteers across the globe and have generated a global network of thousands of socio-cultural institutions including schools, coaching centers, universities, hospitals, dialogue centers, relief organizations etc. Their transnational networks active on global and local civic social issues have multiplied, built alliances with national and supranational civil actors including UN’s institutions, and influenced their views and actions.

Professor Anwar Alam maintains:

“Hizmet is a transnational civil society movement calling up everyone to collaborate around a common ideal of good work for humanity. The movement aims to facilitate an environment in which all can work together in a pluralistic, peaceful, all embracing spirit and voluntary altruism, regardless of subscription to a certain faith.” [5]

Unlike other movements, Hizmet’s most effective paradigm of conceptualizing such an unusual combination of coalitions, coordination, and diversities of convergence and pluralism, of national and transnational struggles is an example of a model grassroots movement.

Transnational networking of the Movement has emerged as a crucial aspect of its global activities and as the main form of organizational linkage between local nation-based civic actors to the cross-border activism of Hizmet. The Movement aptly fits into Robert Putnam’s theory on “Social Capital” which refers to “the connections among individuals, social networks and the norms of reciprocity and trustworthiness that arise from them.” Hizmet’s transnational network is a result of its employment of “social trust” and “reciprocity.”

Thus, these forms of movement within Hizmet can be characterized by voluntary horizontal and, at times, vertical patterns of coordination that are reciprocal and asymmetrical. Within the Hizmet Movement, in particular, the transnational network can be understood as maintaining coordination among different civil society actors including both organizations and individuals such as experts, located in several countries, based on a shared frame of work, and investing joint efforts for common good. Being a faith based movement, the crucial factor that motivates its volunteers is, as Anwar Alam rightly observed, “the in-built Islamic cognitive structure of the ‘ikhlas-iman-hijrah-dawa’” linkage that provides the motivational resources for the expansion of the movement.” While detailing the micro structure of the Movement he concluded, “in short, the whole Hizmet Movement runs on the informal principle of consultation, trust, cooperation, and faith” [6].

In spite of the different perspectives and viewpoints in course, the Movement flourished as a self-organized and self-sustained actor on the global scene with its own policy priorities and agenda for social-civic changes. The Movement is clearly transnational in its very nature and in the reach of its activism that converges in fostering universal values. While having such a vivid picture of the transnational character of the Movement, one can rightly argue that this transnational character became the reason the Movement not only survived but thrived, in wake of the so called failed coup attempt of 2016 and subsequent witch hunts and purges that were launched by the Turkish regime.

References

1 Alam, Anwar. 2019. For the sake of Allah, The Origin, Development, and Discourse of the Gülen Movement. Blue Dome Press, USA, p. 28.

2 Gülen, M. Fethullah. 1998. Towards the Lost Paradise. Izmir: kaynak.  Al-Bukhari, “Al-adab-ul-Mufrad” no. 273, and  Ibn-Sa’ad, “al-tabaqat” vol.1, p. 192.

3 Ibid, p. 87.

4 Quoted in Mustafa Akyol, “What made the Gulen Movement Possible” in International Conference Proceedings: Muslim World in Transition: Contributions of the Gülen Movement, Leeds Metropolitan University Press, London, October 2007, p. 31.

5 Alam, op. cit. p. 27.

6 Alam, op. cit. p. 159-164.

One of the groups of people that suffer heavily from trauma are immigrants. In this issue, Dr. Tekin starts his article on trauma with the example of a couple from Iraq, tortured and abused by terrorists who killed their kids. Now, safe and away from the dangers of their home country, the couple cannot overcome their fears and pains, despite now living under a roof and having plentiful food and work. “Mass Trauma, PTSD, and Treatment Options” raises awareness of this epidemic, which is lived at both personal and public levels. Its effects will not only shape our populations, but will also leave indelible marks in our souls. 

Can one way of dealing with trauma and disasters be relevant to “the way we view the world and our place in relation to it”? Robert Howe suggests it is. “Fundamentally, the problem of environmental decline is a malady of tension – between the self, society, and nature,” writes Howe, for whom “the environment’s decline is a sign that modernity is suffering from a crisis of spirituality.” In his “Regenerating Life with Soulcentric Education”, Howe pinpoints the problem as education systems which value academic intelligences because they serve the economic values the system upholds. For him, the contemporary education is “the story of separation” in which humans are divorced from nature and the world by “othering” and “commodifying” them. One solution, for Howe, could be “regenerative education,” which educates healthy, soul-centered adults who understand why they are on Earth, why they were born, and who live with a sense of belonging to the natural and human communities. It is certainly an interesting piece to read and offers a renewed perspective on our lives.

“Turning the Unknown and the Different into the Familiar and the Friendly” by Ellen Michelson offers a second way of dealing with the troubles plaguing our world: interfaith dialogue. Ellen is the editor of The Menorah newsletter of the Congregation B’nai Israel, in New Jersey. She has been an active member of the interfaith community, and, together with the other members of her congregation, she reaches out to other faith groups to promote dialogue and understanding. Her piece offers a humble reading of what can be done today to overcome prejudice and to build a society that respects differences.